


It's Closing Time

by MissVioletHunter



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissVioletHunter/pseuds/MissVioletHunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and his Midgardian lover go to a club one night. Songfic, based on the song "Closing Time" by Leonard Cohen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Closing Time

**IT'S CLOSING TIME**

**_Ah we're drinking and we're dancing_ **   
**_and the band is really happening_ **   
**_and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high_ **

The Afterworld Club is the most exclusive and infamous dance venue in the city. The four giant bouncers that keep the front door have a very precise idea of the kind of people they have to let in. The most popular, the most attractive, the richest across Europe would sell their immortal souls for having their names put on the Afterworld VIP list.

Wealth alone doesn't guarantee the privilege of entering this temple of sound, guarded like a fortress and decorated like a palace. Invitations are punctually sent to young tycoons, supermodels, eccentric artists, playboy millionaires and a very limited range of "it people". Within these walls alliances are formed, millions are won and lost in obscure transactions, fortunes spent every night on Cristal champagne and other less public and more expensive vices.

You're standing on the sidewalk, a few yards away from the entrance, wearing a gold lamé dress whose color almost matches the huge sign of the club, bright neon letters covering half of the building's front. It's not by your own merits that you expect to be admitted here, but for being with the man who stands beside you. At first sight he doesn't look different from the other young socialites who frequent the Afterworld: tall, handsome, slender, impeccably dressed in a black suit and a white shirt, and looking as if he owned the place and all the people in it.

You repress a smile when you realize that if the people around you knew who Loki really is, they would run away screaming. Instead, the women (and some men) look at him with obvious desire, and some of the most veteran patrons throw him suspicious glances with a hint of dislike. Especially when, instead of standing in line like everybody else, he walks towards the head doorman and flashes a business card, green letters on a glossy black background.

"Mr. Laufeyson", mutters the security guard, with a reverend tone reserved almost exclusively for heads of state, international gun dealers and certain CEOs. "We were expecting you. Please come in. You too, miss", the man adds with just a passing glance at you, like an afterthought.

You don't raise the same admiration among the crowd. They just see you as arm candy for a rich man, one of those expensive, decorative women that can (and will) be replaced for a similar one in a few days without anyone noticing. That's not exactly your case, though: for the last few months Loki has been coming and going between Asgard and Midgard, working on some secret plan that not even you know nothing about, and during all that time you have been his lover. He approached you on the street one day as you were going out of your office and towards the tube. You smiled at the stranger, finding him terribly attractive with his dapper black coat, silk scarf and elegant hands. A couple of hours later his coat was lying on the floor of your flat, his scarf tied around your wrists, and his hands firmly holding your very willing heart.

**_Yeah the women tear their blouses off_ **   
**_and the men they dance on the polka-dots_ **   
**_and it's partner found, it's partner lost_ **   
**_and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops_ **

Inside the club there is a well-organized chaos. Several go-go dancers, male and female, show their assets to the audience perched in golden pedestals. A world famous DJ stands inside a glass bubble working his sensational magic. Some people dance, others look at the crowd, a few talk quietly at the bar, and one or two couples have started to seek refuge in the darkness of a nearby corner.

Loki is in a good mood tonight. He orders champagne as you are led to one of the VIP zone tables, and after a while he takes you right to the center of the dance floor. The music is slow, thick, like the heartbeat of a barely tamed beast. Strangely, it pounds its constant rhythm at the same pace than the pulse in your veins, and you start dancing with your eyes fixed in the man who has become the force within that pulse.

These songs are not for the mind, or for the heart. They appeal directly to the primal nature of the body, to the memory of the first drum ever played thousands of years ago.

**_And my very sweet companion_ **   
**_she's the Angel of Compassion_ **   
**_she's rubbing half the world against her thigh_ **

As the dance floor gets crowded, the bodies get closer to each other. One of Loki's hands is on your waist, but he's barely moving; he seems to be breathing to the palpitating rhythm of the song, and the whole room moves around him following the beat. Your hips are touching his, the lightest contact possible, as your body inches slowly against him.

"I adore watching you dance, little angel", he whispers. "I've seen many women dance in front of me, but only you do it as if you were alone in the room."

"I wish I were... alone with you, I mean", you manage to answer.

"Oh, but that wouldn't be as much fun as this, at least from my perspective. Look." He seizes your waist and makes you turn around, facing the glass cage of the DJ. The music halts for a fraction of a second, starting again to a different tune, and you finally see why it felt like the song was somewhat following your pace. The DJ has his eyes fixed on you while his hands fly across the sound board. He's a gorgeous man, muscular and tan, with closely cropped blond hair; you've seen his picture many times on the press, usually posing with the many awards he has won over the years. None of those awards must be for being discreet, though: he's staring directly at you, flashing a smile, ignoring the presence of your lover who, right behind you, has placed his hands on your hips and now presses his chest against your back.

**_And the moon is swimming naked_ **   
**_and the summer night is fragrant_ **   
**_with a mighty expectation of relief_ **

You feel a flash of panic, fearing what Loki could do to the man behind the glass for daring to look at you like that. But he doesn' t seem angry or crossed. He simply pulls you a bit closer and starts kissing the side of your neck with a soft laugh that only you can hear, and you finally realize this is all a game to him.

"You bast... You're getting off on this!"

"I'm enjoying it to no end, my angel."

"You're not even a tiny bit jealous."

"Of him? No. Nor of the other mortals who are gazing at you right now." He signals around and you see at last three other men that look very interested in every move you're making. "All they can do is look and envy what I have. They are allowed to watch the dance, but you... you are only mine." He slides a fingertip over the hollow of your throat, and you need all your willpower to refrain from moaning.

**_And I swear it happened just like this:_ **   
**_a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss_ **   
**_the Gates of Love they budged an inch_ **   
**_I can't say much has happened since_ **

"Don't touch me. I'm mad at you for showing me off like that", you complain between your teeth, but your tone is everything except convincing.

"If you don't want me, my sweet, I can go dance with someone else."

"You wouldn't dare!" You cover your hand with your mouth right after saying it. He's done it again, made you confess how much you care for him almost against your will.

"That woman over there in the leopard dress seems to like me. Shall I go and find out?"

You're furious now, but you try not to show it. "Don't be absurd. She's a hundred."

"But she's wearing something tight... Dare I hope that _you_ are jealous now?"

"Oh, don't presume!" You've had enough of his games for the night. Turning round to face Loki you pull him into a kiss, running your fingers through his hair. After a moment you can feel his smile against your lips and something hard pressing against your stomach. It's time for a different kind of game.

**_And the whole damn place goes crazy twice_ **   
**_and it's once for the devil and once for Christ_ **   
**_but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights_ **   
**_we're busted in the blinding lights_ **

The pace of the music changes again, from tempered to frantic. Your admirer in the glass cage has understood the message and returned to his business. The night is growing old and the bodies around you surrender to the song, their minds even more disconnected from reality.

Ignoring the fast beating of the music, Loki grinds against you slowly, as if the tune in his head was not the same everyone else is hearing. His kisses become more demanding and his hands start venturing under your dress, until he drags you to a very convenient dark corner.

You are still moving with the music but this time, unlike before, your mind is filled with Loki. Right now you need his touch more than you need air. You can feel the coldness of his skin under the shirt, the soothing and exciting sensation of his fingers tracking the sweat droplets that run down your temple.

You nibble along his jaw, your teeth barely grazing him. His erection is still pressing on you, but you don't dare touching the front of his trousers; it's dangerous to provoke a god with no boundaries in a public place, even a place as decadent as the Afterworld. He lifts your skirt just an inch or two, caressing your thighs, teasing you with his hands on your backside and his tongue flicking over your neck until the sensation is too maddening to resist. You let out a desperate sigh and lay motionless against the wall, knowing that if you go on like that your next movement will be to tear his clothes off. Or yours. Or possibly both.

Fortunately for you, the volume of the music descends and a cold white light replaces the multicolored flashes right before you can make a complete spectacle of yourself. The club is closing, and one by one the guests start awakening from their collective trance.

Without a word, Loki holds your hand and leads you through the side exit and into the limousine that's waiting for you outside. The driver starts the engine and closes the privacy divider. No questions, no comments.

**_So we struggle and we stagger_ **   
**_down the snakes and up the ladder_ **   
**_to the tower where the blessed hours chime_ **

You remember a time, maybe during the first week or two, when Loki's intensity scared you; but now you've become addicted to it. He contains himself sometimes, but after all that buildup at the club you know tonight you're in for a rough one. You kick off your shoes as fast as you can; just the week before you broke a heel for keeping them on during a tryst in the limo. You see Loki place his hand on one of the car windows and mutter a word: a second later all the windows on the back of the car are covered in a thick layer of frost. An extra precaution, since they were already tinted, but now the view from the outside of the running vehicle is completely blocked.

Before you can think of what to do next, he grabs your arms and pins you to the seat. His mouth is on yours, tracing your lips with his tongue while you open the buttons of his shirt with growing urgency. He then starts biting your neck, all the way from your chin to your collarbones. You know it will leave a mark, and your faint cries only seem to encourage him more, but you don't care, lost as usual in the madness of his touch.

He goes further down, exposing your breasts and kissing them roughly. Your hands, until then tangled in his hair, move to his shoulders and grip them hard, digging half-moon shapes on his back with your nails. You know this turns him on instantly, and your efforts are rewarded with a low groan.

"Trying to leave your mark on me, kitten?" he laughs before attacking your mouth again.

"It's only fair... you're drawing a map on my skin, why should I be left out of the fun?" you whisper faintly, almost out of breath.

"You are becoming really good at playing my games", he says with a wicked grin. "Plan your next move carefully, or I will win... like I always do."

You lower your hand to his groin and start touching him slowly; first over the fabric of his suit, and then the sound of a zipper being undone in complete silence brings out a growl from Loki. You stroke him gently, turned on by the feel of him so hot and hard in your hand. Every muscle in his body is tense, and after a few moments he grabs your wrist harshly to make you stop.

**_And I miss you since the place got wrecked_ **   
**_and I just don't care what happens next_ **   
**_looks like freedom but it feels like death_ **   
**_it's something in between, I guess..._ **

His hands are on your thighs now, crawling up, gathering your dress around your waist. You gasp when you hear the sound of fabric being ripped up, mentally waving goodbye to another pair of lace knickers. Anticipation gets the better of you as you close your eyes and let your head fall backwards, but Loki holds your face between his hands:

"No", he whispers hoarsely. "Look at me, angel. Don't take your eyes off me."

You lose yourself in a sea of green. Loki has focused his attentions on the sensitive point between your legs, driving you crazy with his fingers but never actually going inside your folds. It hurts to want him so much, to have him so close to you without any release, but you know it won't last. He's just getting back at you for teasing him before.

"Please...", it's the only word you can bring yourself to say, grinding your hips forward in a futile attempt to get closer to him. The torture lasts only for a few more moments and then you feel Loki's weight on you, his hardness positioned at your entrance. You take him in eagerly, circling his hips with your legs, sighing incoherent pleas in his ear as he slams into you, faster and deeper with each thrust. Your walls clench around him while he devours your mouth with reckless ferocity.

The frost on the windows is thawing with the heat of your bodies combined. Loki's gaze is locked on yours, imprisoning your mind, claiming all your senses. Only when your climaxes arrive, seconds apart in the middle of a symphony of moans, he closes his eyes and allows you back to sanity.

He lifts his weight off you with lazy movements, rearranging his trousers before laying back on the seat beside you. In that precise moment the car slows down until it eventually stops. You lower the window a bit and see that you're right in front of your building.

"Hungry?" you ask, running your hand over Loki's bare chest.

"Starving, kitten."

"Come up to the flat, then. I'll make you breakfast... What do you want?"

"Anything. With a side of _you_ ", he answers, grabbing your hand and nibbling playfully on the tips of your fingers.

As you get out of the limousine, with your shoes in your left hand and Loki having claimed possession of the right one, you realize it has already dawned. On the sidewalk, a silent batallion of early risers makes its way to work among the weary retreat of the last party goers.

**_... it's Closing Time._ **

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a collaboration for NaughtyLokiConfessions on Tumblr.  
> "Closing time" by Leonard Cohen can be found here:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-0lV5qs1Qw


End file.
